


A Gardener For My Grave

by PhenomenalWoman



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin doesn't know Shmi died, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slavery, Tatooine (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenomenalWoman/pseuds/PhenomenalWoman
Summary: AKA how Anakin returns to Tatooine to finally free his mother, but it doesn't go according to plan.~The war is over, the galaxy is at peace again and Anakin is headed to Tatooine. And he can’t wait to get there.“I know,” Anakin sags into Obi-Wan’s grounding touch, “I’m just… I’m nervous.”“I’m not!” Ahsoka chirps, “I’m excited! How many embarrassing baby stories do you think his mom will have to tell us, Obi-Wan?”Anakin is hours away from finally freeing his mom.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker (background)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 525





	A Gardener For My Grave

Anakin pats his pockets for the fifth time in thirty seconds. He picks at the lightweight beige clothes that he finally has an excuse to wear, definitely not for the first time since changing into them. He glances over at Ahsoka, making sure that her sensitive montrals are covered, for the third time since she’s come into view. Anakin checks over Obi-Wan, because he’s just so _pale_ and-

“Skyguy, can you _chill?”_ Ahsoka snaps her fingers right underneath his nose, “It’s going to be fine!”

Obi-Wan lays a grounding hand across his shoulder, “By all means, this should be the easy part,” 

And he’s right. The hard part, unbelievably, is over.

Everything - the war, the deceit, the lies, the month long campaigns- is _over._

If you were to tell Anakin a month ago that he and Mace Kriffing Windu would be the ones to fight and take down the Sith Master, Chancellor Karking Palpatine, Anakin would have laughed in your face. 

But Anakin wasn’t laughing after he took Palp- _Sidious’_ head clean off, and neither was Windu. Anakin wasn’t laughing when the Temple healers fitted him with another prosthetic arm to match his already mechanical right hand. He wasn’t laughing when he collapsed to his knees in front of his wife, his still breathing, perfectly fine, fit to burst pregnant wife. 

The war is over, the galaxy is at peace again and Anakin is headed to Tatooine. And he can’t _wait_ to get there. 

“I know,” Anakin sags into Obi-Wan’s grounding touch, “I’m just… I’m _nervous._ ” 

“I’m not!” Ahsoka chirps, “I’m excited! How many embarrassing baby stories do you think his mom will have to tell us, Obi-Wan?”

Anakin is hours away from finally freeing his mom.

The giddy feeling that rises in his stomach everytime he even _thinks_ about it is enough to chase off any indignation that would normally arise when Ahsoka asks about any embarrassing stories. 

Who cares if the stories are embarrassing as long as his mom is there to tell them? 

~

They land and pay the _outrageous_ docking fee before Anakin whirls on Ahsoka. 

He tugs at the hood pulled over her head and carefully tucks her montrols beneath her shawl, “You know not to talk to anyone, right?”

“I know, Master,"

“And you know to keep your head straight forward? Don’t even _look_ at anyone trying to sell you something,” His hands flutter around her head, picking at invisible strands and imperfections.

“Master, I _know,”_ Ahsoka whines, but the grin plastered to her face betrays her words. She’ll never admit it, but she loves it when Anakin and Obi-Wan fuss over her. 

Anakin scrunches his eyebrows, “Maybe don’t call me that here, Snips. Especially not where a lot of people can hear.” 

“I got this, Skyguy, promise,” 

And the situation is so similar to being at war that it makes Anakin’s heart ache. His padawan, his _sister_ , had no business being on the front lines, and the determined glint in her eyes takes Anakin right back to the battlefield when he’d tell Ahsoka the game plan with a stressed reminder to _stay safe_. 

And yet her shoulders aren’t tense with adrenaline. Her hands aren’t hovering over the two lightsabers hidden on her belt. Ahsoka looks _happy_ , like a normal seventeen year old should be. 

“Okay,” Anakin nods once and rubs his hand between her montrals, and _Force_ when did they start getting so big? “Okay, lets go.” 

~

It’s scary, Ahsoka observes, how easily her master’s body language changes upon arriving. His gait lengthens and she has to speed walk to keep up with his fast and powerful strides. His lip seems to have permanently curled into a sneer that has been successful in driving off any haggling merchants, but his eyes dart from person to person, shifting at the slightest movement. 

He is still every inch the Jedi General here that he was on the battlefield, Ahsoka realizes. 

They’re only stopped once, by one particularly bold Dug that looks Ahsoka up and down with a lecherous grin. “That’s a pretty one you’ve got there,” He informs Anakin without looking away from her. 

Ahsoka can feel her cheeks start to heat up and her muscles start to tense, but before she can even take a breath, Obi-Wan is standing in front of her, blocking the Dug’s view and Anakin is hissing something so vulgar in Huttese that it would make Master Yoda keel over on the spot. 

And as they continue on their path, Ahsoka isn’t holding onto Anakin’s wrist like a youngling in the creche. It only looks like she is. 

Anakin leads them to a little junk shop but he stops short in front of the door. His hand, metal bared to the world because he said the twin suns would surely melt his gloves, freezes just before he grabs the door knob. 

“Skyguy?” Ahsoka squeezes his wrist and glances back at Obi-Wan, who has his classic I’m-Worried-About-You-Anakin-Please-Talk-To-Us face on. 

Anakin pushes the door open and walks inside. 

“Who is it? Who is it?” A gruff voice immediately shouts. 

Her master doesn’t respond and instead drifts towards a counter, as if being pulled by some gravitational force. 

Ahsoka watches as his hand drags across the edge of the counter and his lips finally quirk into a smile, the first since landing on this dustball. His hand keeps tracing along the counter until something else seems to catch his eye.

He picks up an old and rusted looking piece of _junk_ but doesn’t get far with whatever he wants with it before a Toydarian is in their faces. 

“What can I do for you?” Despite his helpful words, he sounds inconvenienced, as if potential customers are a burden for him, “You look like Jedi. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” His beady gaze switches between the three of them, but he keeps most of his focus on Anakin.

“I’m looking for Shmi Skywalker,” Anakin has even pulled out his General Voice, as Ahsoka likes to call it. It’s all bark with a promise of bite if his orders aren’t followed.

The Toydarian’s scrutinizing gaze drifts down to the junk in Anakin’s hands just as it springs to life and his eyes widen in realization, “Ani? Little Ani?” 

Anakin’s jaw clenches and he lets the little droid jump out of his hands and teeter off.

“You are Ani!” The Toydarian seems overjoyed, but Ahsoka can see underlying greed on his face, “Ya sure sprouted, weehoo! Little Ani, a Jedi? Hey, maybe you could help me with-”

“My mother, Watto,” Anakin grinds out, dangerously close to the edge of his rope.

“Oh, yeah,” Watto has the decency to at least look sheepish, “She’s not mine no more. I sold her.” 

Ahsoka can feel her master’s boiling anger through their bond, and so can Obi-Wan by the way he’s shifting closer.

“Sold her?” Anakin repeats and it's only the way that his hands are clenched that stop him from grabbing his saber.

“Oh, years and years ago. Sorry Ani, business and business,” Watto shrugs and flutters over to fuss at one of his pit droids, “Sold her to some moisture farmer named Lars. Least I think it was Lars. Believe it or not,” he turns back to the three, “I heard he freed and married her. Can ya beat that!”

Anakin feels heat completely unrelated to the Tatooine suns rise in his cheeks. Someone already freed his mom? Years and years ago?

“Do you know where to find them?” Obi-Wan steps in gracefully, the Negotiator in all his glory. 

“Long way from here,” Watto responds flippantly, waving his hand for emphasis, “Some place on the other side of Mos Eisley, I think,” 

Anakin clears his throat, “Where?” 

Watto scoffs, “Long way from here, I said-”

 _“Where, Watto?”_

Watto blinks up at Anakin, as if seeing him in a new light before nodding, “I’ll go check my records.”

~

The ship lands on a bluff, and Anakin can see the house where his mother is, happy, married, and free, on the desert floor below. His heart starts to beat even faster, and he’s suddenly grateful he doesn’t have to worry about sweaty hands anymore. 

Anakin can’t get out of the ship fast enough. 

“She’s going to _love you,_ Ahsoka. You too, Obi-Wan. You guys can probably talk about tea and whatever it is old people talk about,” Anakin rambles, sliding down the sand path with little regard for how itchy his clothes will be in a few moments.

Obi-Wan hums in acknowledgement, “I can hardly wait.” 

They get closer and closer until they see a protocol droid with rusted outer coverings tottering outside the homestead. “Good evening,” He greets pleasantly, “May I help you?”

Anakin stops shorts and leans in to inspect the droid, “Threepio?” His voice borders on incredulous and his mouth ticks into another smile.

“Yes, how did you- oh, my! Oh, my! Master Anakin!” Threepio sounds as overjoyed as any droid can, “My goodness, I can hardly believe it! Who are your companions?” 

“Threepio, this is my padawan, Ahsoka, and my ma- my teacher, Obi-Wan. I’ve come to see my mother,” Anakin shoots a quick, unreadable glance back at Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. His fingers rub against each other, and the quiet sound of metal sliding past itself helps to soothe his nerves.

“Oh dear,” Threepio’s voice drops, and Anakin frowns, “We’d better go inside,” 

The droid turns without waiting for a response and leads them inside. Anakin looks back at the two of them, nervousness written clear across his face. Obi-Wan’s Force Signature brushes against his own, and Ahsoka squeezes his hand with a firm nod, “C’mon, Skyguy. Can’t keep her waiting,” 

The three of them follow the droid inside to find a couple, maybe a bit older than Anakin, waiting for them. Anakin’s mother is nowhere to be seen. 

“I’m Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin greets first, “This is Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. We’re looking for my mother,” He cranes his neck to peek behind the couple. Maybe she’s hiding?

The man clears his throat and steps forward, “I’m Owen Lars,” He shakes Anakin’s hand before doing the same to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, “I guess I’m your step brother,” Owen’s cheeks flush at the strange greeting, “This is my wife, Beru.”

“Is my mother here?” 

Beru’s gentle smile does nothing to calm the rampant nerves in the room, “Why don’t we sit down? There’s a lot to talk about.” 

Anakin practically collapses into the nearest chair, his eyes stuck on the couple in front of him. His knee begins to bounce as the two trade glances.

“They came at dawn,” Owen starts carefully, easing into his own chair, “Damn things came out of nowhere,” He looks down at his hands, one of which is wrapped around Beru’s, “A hunting party of Tusken Raiders.” 

The training bond, both Anakin and Obi-Wan’s, and Anakin and Ahsoka’s, flares with _fearconfusionnervousness_. 

“Your mom had gone out early, like she always did, to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators. From the tracks she was about halfway when they took her,” Owen finally meets Anakin’s pleading gaze, “Thirty of us went after her. Four came back, my father was one of them but his injuries were too severe. He… he died a week later.” 

“When?” Anakin’s voice is gruff and nothing like the giddy boyish tone he had just moments before, “When was she taken?”

Owen’s gaze drops back down to his hands.

Beru reaches across the table to take one of Anakin’s hands, and she doesn’t even look twice at the metal, “22 BBY,” She answers softly.

Silence.

Obi-Wan bows his head and clenches his eyes shut. Ahsoka drops a hand to Anakin’s forearm, squeezing gently.

Anakin stands up so fast the chair falls backwards and Beru startles backwards in her own chair. He’s out the door before anyone can say a word. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Obi-Wan finally speaks into the tense silence, “And thank you for your time,” He rises to his feet and Ahsoka does the same and the two of them hurry after Anakin.

~

Anakin’s already trashed most of his quarters on the ship by the time they reach him. Various cups have been shattered, his flimsy mattress has been upturned and Anakin sits against the far wall. 

The only sound between them are the gut wrenching sobs leaving Anakin. 

“Skyguy?” Ahsoka steps closer but flinches back at the grating sound of metal wringing together.

Anakin’s brought both hands above his head, but they’re starting to tangle into his hair and pull at the strands. 

Obi-Wan pushes past her and kneels slowly in front of his former padawan, narrating his every move, “Anakin, I’m going to touch your hands,” He murmurs before easing his hands out of his hair. 

“I was too late,” Anakin whispers, and his throat sounds like he’s been gargling kyber crystals. “I was too late, I didn’t save her, I didn’t-” A sob bursts from his throat and his head drops against Obi-Wan’s chest. 

Ahsoka spurs into action despite the tears threatening to spill from her own eyes. She sits on her master’s opposite side and begins to card her fingers through his clumpy hair. His scalp must be burning, she figures, the strength in those metal hands are no joke. 

“I was too _late!”_ Anakin wails, fighting against Obi-Wan’s grip on his wrists. “She’s _dead!_ And I didn’t do anything…” he dissolves into more sobs, each one tugging at Ahsoka’s heart strings. 

Even at their worst campaigns, she’s never seen her master like this. He’s always been so strong, her anchor really. Ahsoka’s one rock in the violent and unsteady current of war. 

“You didn’t know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan soothes, rubbing circles into the solid metal of Anakin’s wrists, “It isn’t your fault,” 

Anakin’s head falls back against the wall behind them, almost pinching Ahsoka’s fingers but neither of them seem to notice, “I was supposed to free her,” He whispers, eyes clenched shut in a losing fight against the unrelenting tears that stream down his face, “She wasn’t supposed to die here,” His throat bobs against another sob. 

Ahsoka snakes an arm across his chest and drops her head on his shoulder, just like she would after a bad dream from a bad campaign after she snuck in his bed. 

Together, her and Obi-Wan shed tears for the woman they never got to meet, but will forever be in awe of because of the boy she put in this galaxy. 

~

They spend another two days on Tatooine, spending most days with Owen and Beru. If Anakin has red rimmed and puffy eyes in the morning no one says anything. If Ahsoka or Obi-Wan hear his soft sniffles in the middle of the night before curling up against him, neither of them mention it. 

They fall into an easy rhythm; Anakin helps Owen in the morning and evenings with the vaporators, and Obi-Wan does what he can. 

“You’re an amazing Jedi,” Anakin tells Obi-Wan in a rare fit of humor since arriving, “But you’re a shit mechanic,” 

Ahsoka helps Beru with household chores, and Obi-Wan helps occasionally if he’s been banished from helping the other two men outside. 

The one part of their routine that is never brought up is when Anakin escapes the tangle of limbs and escapes into the night, only to come back in the morning with more bruises than he left with but a satisfied smile on his face.

On the third night, things change.

Ahsoka wakes up first. The stiff mattress barely makes a sound, but the creak of the door is enough to wake Ahsoka. Thankfully, it doesn’t wake her grandmaster, Force knows the man needs all the sleep he can get. 

She snatches her belt, lightsabers attached, before sneaking out after her master.

Ahsoka has only followed him for less than half a mile before Anakin stops in his tracks.

“Go back, Ahsoka,” His voice is hoarse, nearly gone. 

“Where are you going?” Ahsoka asks, crossing her arms.

“Ahsoka, go _back,”_

Ahsoka frowns and comes around Anakin to stand in front of him, “Not until you tell me where you’re going.” 

His eyes clench shut and Ahsoka takes the moment to inspect him. He’s wearing all black, to blend into the night or to keep whatever heat he can against the desert’s cold nights Ahsoka doesn’t know. His hilt of his lightsaber glints on his hip, and Ahsoka can see one of his hands has a fraying and patched up bag trapped in a deathgrip.

“You’ve been leaving every night, and you come back hurt. Don’t think Obi-Wan and I haven’t noticed,”

Anakin presses his lips in a tight line, “I’m not going back to the house. Not until I’m done, and you can’t make me go back,” The line of his jaw is so tense, Ahsoka wonders if his teeth hurt. 

The two of them stand and watch each other in the pale moonlight. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Ahsoka finally says, “I was going to ask if you needed help.” 

“Anakin.” 

Ahsoka peers around Anakin to where Obi-Wan is standing with his hands on his hips. It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but he doesn’t seem very impressed. 

Anakin clamps his hands into fists and turns on his heel to face his former master, _“What?”_

Obi-Wan takes in his appearance, just as Ahsoka had, before _tutting_ softly with a shake of his head, “You’re subtly has hardly improved, Padawan,” He chides before stepping closer, “Now, what is it that you need help with?”

~

Anakin leads them to an unassuming homestead similar to the Lars’. 

“Just… don’t be too weird, okay?” Anakin warns once before easing the door open. 

Whatever questions Ahsoka and Obi-Wan have die on their lips at the sight before them. 

A mass of people - humans, near humans, twi’leks, and a number of other species - sit crowded around a glowrod. Each of them stare at the newcomers with wide and frightened eyes. None of them look like they’ve had a good meal and shower in _years._

Anakin says something softly in a language neither of them recognize, but the people visibly relax. 

One little twi’lek stumbles forward to Anakin and raises her too-skinny arms in the universal sign to be picked up, which Anakin does. “Skywalker,” She says lowly, face tucked into Anakin’s neck. 

The others titter softly, echoing the sentiment. 

_Skywalker,_ they say, even though it sounds like a title, like Sky Walker, and not a name. Anakin holds the little girl tight and a rush of emotion floods his Force Bonds. He turns to look at Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

“They’re slaves,” He murmurs, rubbing slow circles into the little girl’s back, “I’ve been… I’ve been freeing them for the past few nights,” He admits as though it’s something to be ashamed of, “Tonight I’m getting their chips out.” 

The people, the _slaves_ , start to chatter again, all hushed whispers in the language neither Ahsoka nor Obi-Wan understand. 

The room stands still as Anakin waits for a response. Ahsoka reaches out and squeezes at Anakin’s bicep, careful not to startle the little girl in his arms.

“What do you need us to do?” 

~

Between the three of them, de-chipping the _former_ slaves is easy. One of them will use the Force to subdue the initial trigger of the chip being tampered with while the other will begin to cut through skin to pull out the chip. The third will contain the small blast away from the group of people.

“Big booms like that are pretty common throughout the night,” Anakin had said quietly when they started working, “So people won’t come looking.” 

The bag that he was holding had been full of numbing liquid - no anesthetics, Anakin had said. They couldn’t be put under, they needed to see. At first, Ahsoka didn’t understand. Why _wouldn’t_ they be put under while they were being cut into? But then she had seen the look of pure relief and unadulterated joy on the first newly freed slave who saw the chip leave their body and she understood. 

The three of them didn’t stop until everyone in the little house was de-chipped, working well into the morning. 

As the very last chip was taken out, Ahsoka could feel the exhaustion start to creep into her bones and pull at her eyelids, but she forced herself awake only to see the massive embrace that her master was pulled into.

 _Sky Walker,_ they call him, _Ekkreth_ , the murmur in hushed tones.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan stand side by side and watch as Anakin sinks into their embrace and stay silent when they see tears well in his eyes as he hugs them back just as tight. In fact, they can’t do much else before the two of them are being pulled into the hug.

~

So, if on the way back to Coruscant the three of them find a few… _extra passengers_ on the ship, they don’t mention it. And if, upon their return, newly elected Chancellor Organa finds himself signing a few dozen citizenship papers for a multitude of planets, he doesn’t say anything.

And if Obi-Wan and Ahsoka find Anakin in the middle of the night, sneaking into the ship hangar with a fraying and patched up bag in hand they don’t say anything either. They just climb aboard and prepare to set out for whoever needs them next.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! As always, comments are much appreciated! All mistakes are my own! Title comes from Hozier's song No Plan.


End file.
